Weekly World News Silenced

So they’ve finally killed-off the Weekly World News and the world is a duller place because of that. No more shall we stand in a supermarket checkout line and let our attention take in the shocking news that “Dick Cheney is a Robot”. (“Just Like a Stepford Wife!” The splash assures us.) This publication started out around the time that I first started to read the things around me...I mean really take in my surroundings. For a kid, sitting caged in one of those rolling metal death traps that are shopping carts, those magazines racks were right at eye level, and I took it all in, along with the candy and bubble gum right beside them.
Now, those supermarket rags, as I understand this, are holdovers from the 1950’s, that glorious Post-War era that seems to have just paved the Yellow Brick Road to Hell for Western Civilization. It was a time when women were expected to stay at home and do housework, which, of course, included the shopping. In between her doing the vacuuming (in heels and pearls, of course!) and using the latest technological advances of a modern kitchen to prepare delicious meals for her family, she would take time out and amuse herself with a variety of entertaining game shows, variety programming, and, of course, the “stories” on television, (many of them still brought to you courtesy of the very same brand name sponsors as back then.)
Of course, this relic, this model of the “Modern Wife” of that era would also find distraction(and some still do, I believe) at the checkout line, by browsing tabloids that told not only of the gossip of the Hollywood Stars and various pop celebrities but hyped also the fictional happenings and machinations of the various characters from their stories. But I digress. You see, as a kid, sitting there, in a supermarket, deciphering these cryptic headlines on my own, I made a serious and solid decision…I chose the one about Bigfoot and UFOS over the “Who Shot JR” ones.
I wasn’t intentionally exposed to such garbage, you understand. I mean, my mother taught English and expected better from me. She selected, and made sure I completed, a summer reading list every year, and would engage me in conversation (i.e. quiz me) on selected topics from the readings, and, once, she went to bat for me with the nuns when I got kicked out of fifth grade for reading Mark Twain during recess. How could I let her know that I would cunningly purchase and read any copy of that pulp rag that I could lay my hands on? Thanks to some skillful distribution of comic books and newspapers in my life, however no one ever caught on that I was reading the Weekly World News.
In high school I realized that, no matter how cool it was to believe that Debbie Gibson was pregnant with Elvis’ two headed love child, it was really not going to happen. But by that point I was also writing actively, and taking great pleasure in learning about it as a craft, an art, and a potential livelihood, and I looked at the Weekly World News as a fun guide to outlandish creativity.
You see, the headlines were always fun and clever: “Man Marries Computer & Becomes a GIGAMIST!”, “Imelda Marcos Skins Children for More Shoes!”, “Vegan Vampire Attacks Trees”. And they always pulled it off with just the right edge of suspicion and veracity to make one both chuckle and wonder. It helped me develop a healthy understanding of the relatively plausible, the plainly outlandish, and the just plain freaky. (Gotta love those Freaks!)
In later years, through college overseas, then coming back and living in a brand new kind of neo-post-modern hell, The Weekly World News offered only small portion of its former vigor. Batboy had become all the rage and they were putting out way too many headlines about him, and about Jesus, God, and the End of Days. But they still came through, every week, drawing readers into a style and place, where anything could, sometimes did, happen.
But, in the end it seems that The Paper was just past it’s time. Still published in glorious black and white, still hawking Elvis sightings, alien encounters, conspiracies within the government, and newly discovered prophecies, it was, after a point, doomed.
I once told a good friend that I believed that, if indeed, Signs of the End of the World were to be made manifest, and the Four Horsemen were to Ride, the Weekly World News would most likely report it first. Now, I’m pretty sure, it would be on the Drudge Report, or YouTube, or some such site long before it made it to print. (And would be followed for days by talking head commentary, analysis, and reaction.)
We are living, now, in an age where real world worries and horrors far outweigh the imagined ones of extra terrestrial rectal probes and Chinese organ stealing rings. These days nothing is shocking, nothing takes us by surprise, and not much makes us think, anymore. People openly accuse the government of the most ridiculous schemes and revile their elected leaders as the worst kind of diabolical cabal, and it passes for insightful mainstream political criticism.
Parent company, American Media, Inc. gave no public reason for their decision to close down the presses at the WWN, but one insider said that the reasons for shutting down don’t make any sense. Now, they say that the Website will remain and that it’s only the print edition that is defunct, but people seem to have long given up on Bigfoot, The Loch Ness Monster, Elvis, and Batboy. What people want now are sources, they expect hard facts, and as much of the illusion of accuracy that television or the internet can offer them. Why shell out for a black and white tabloid when you can log in and find any number of strange happenings, bizarre tales, and weird people. Mostly they’re a lousy bunch of loudmouth whack-jobs sounding off about their brand of insanity but, because of the way it’s delivered, people believe that it is “Now fortified with 10% more Truth!”
I’ve long since drifted away from reading tabloids, have only scanned a few stories while waiting in line at the stores, but losing the WWN a loss is to me because they were never afraid to take it one step too far, and they never took themselves too seriously, they did as much to inform as to entertain. Their twisted style of trashy strangeness, their unapologetic exploitation of Freaks, Geeks and Weirdos, it all appealed to sick bastards out there like me. Their lurid stories were like junk food for my brain, a kind of mental candy on which to chew, and I will miss the headlines at the checkout counter, about Elvis, and Bigfoot, and even Batboy…but you know...I believe that I will miss the Freaks most of all.

I was tagged by Kel over on KelKnits for a Wikipedia Birthday Meme a few weeks ago. I figured that since it was so close to the actual birthday, I would just wait and post it now.

August 1st
3 Events:
30 BC - Octavian (later known as Augustus) enters Alexandria, Egypt, bringing it under the control of the Roman Republic.
1966 – Charles Whitman kills 15 people shooting from the Main Building at The University of Texas at Austin before being killed by the police.
1981 - MTV begins broadcasting and airs its first video, "Video Killed The Radio Star" by the Buggles.

2 Birthdays:
1819 - Herman Melville, American writer (d. 1891)
1942 - Jerry Garcia, American musician (The Grateful Dead) (d. 1995)

1 Holiday:
Lammas - Neopagan festival of Lammas.

I don’t know how much fun that was, but it was certainly informative.

Sweet Sweep!

A few years ago someone I trust gave me some very good advice: “Never write about a team that you’re backing because it just invites their savage loss.” I’ve ignored that advice before and have ended up trying to rationalize some surprise flogging to a team that showed every promise of victory. The majority of those whippings have been handed to the San Antonio Spurs, after I’ve gotten too caught up in the moment and proclaimed their supremacy too soon. This has happened way too often during the NBA Finals.
Now the Fat Lady has sung in San Antonio and the Spurs have won their 4th NBA title since that ugly abbreviated 1999 season, and I feel safe enough to write about them, without the chance of calling down their doom. Of course, there’s not much left to be said, now. Now, it’s all over and the Spurs have gone far beyond the “asterisk” season.

Back when their play-off run began I was celebrating Fiesta Week (Post on that to follow). They started off low, with an April 23rd loss to the Denver Nuggets, and since I know people there and had bet on the Spurs with confidence, I was disheartened with their start. But Denver was unable to come up with another win against the Spurs, and even Carmelo Anthony, looked like he was moving in slow motion against Tony Parker and Tim Duncan. The Spurs went on to win not only their next four (4) games against Denver but their first game on May 6th against the Phoenix Suns.
That was when I started to feel that creeping doom hovering around them. I started watching the games with a sense of dark foreboding. I’d talk to people here in San Antonio who were giddy but not willing to commit to the idea that the Spurs could pull it off again. “They can do it,” they’d say. “But I’m not going to start getting crazy about it until they get into the Finals.” Quite so.
Truth is, Spurs fans have had their hearts broken too many times in too few years at that stage of the game. From Fishers impossible shot in 2004 (that not only cost us the game but the Will to go on), to the gut-wrenching game 7 loss in 2006, that went to the Dallas Mavericks in overtime because of a terribly timed foul that Manu Ginobili handed Dirk Nowitski.
That was a cruel defeat to Dallas. The Spurs were working on a repeat title win, had a franchise record of 63 wins, were #1 in the West, and had played some of the best basketball ever seen. But Victory is a fickle mistress, you know? And the Spurs and the fans found out the hard way that, sometimes you eat the bear and other times the bear eats you.
This year Dallas held such a mighty record that the rest of the League was vying for second place for the most of the last third of the regular season. So, when the Spurs failed to rank second, and had to settle for third behind the Suns, well, no one got too excited about it. If we made it past Denver and the Suns, we would surely have to face Dallas in the Western Conference Finals. Nobody, not even I, wanted to imagine that savage match-up when this whole this started back during Fiesta Week or at any other time, for that matter. This year, though, it was the Dallas Mavericks turn to be eaten by the bear and it wasn’t the Spurs that did it.
In one of the weirdest matchups of the decade, the Golden State Warriors faced off against Dallas, and when it all started, everyone outside the Bay Area just kind of ignored it. But I still know some people in the Bay Area and I had to cheer for Oakland just because I lived there. Also, I had to rail against Mark Cuban and Avery Johnson, I took note of their first win over Dallas and recognized how, with the more of that fast and ready game, the Warriors stood a good chance against them. Also, it was impossible to ignore how the low ranked Warriors were being led by Coach Don Nelson, who was the former Dallas Head Coach. People here still sometimes call the Mavs “The Team that Nellie Built”, and we kind of feel that Cuban hired on former Spur Avery Johnson as Nellie’s assistant coach (promoted to head coach) with the sole purpose of taking out the Spurs. I am sure that he chafes at the thought of walking in Don Nelson’s shadow.
I had to get a taste of that action because, in my own warped mind, I was looking at it like Obi Wan Kenobi facing off with a Pre-Vader Anakin on Mustafar. Also, after watching the way that Baron Davis and Stephen Jackson handled Dallas, I got one of those feelings about that series, a weird, tingly itch that someone who likes sports needs to learn to heed.
The Warriors ended Dallas’s dream of a NBA Title in six (6) games, and the look on Mark Cubans face was priceless. To hell with him, we wanted to start an I-35 rivalry with the Spurs, and the team did their best to work up to that, but payback is a real bitch and when you got it coming to you, not even the best record and a flawless performance can stop the hammer when it falls.
Golden State advanced to take on the Utah Jazz and lost it 4-1, and the Spurs went up against the Phoenix Suns.
The Jazz were strong all season, and took out the Houston Rockets, 4-3 in the series. Utah was relieved to have a break from another Texas team and went out to take Golden State in five (5) games.
For San Antonio, the Suns were the hardest team to overcome in the post-season. Coach Mike D’Antoni is a very sharp and shrewd opponent and Steve Nash is the Tim Duncan West of the Pecos. But the Suns are not a one horse team, hell no! Amare Stoudemire, Leandro Barbosa, Shawn Marion, Boris Diaw, and Raja Bell, those guys were a beauty to watch on the court against the Spurs. The series was bloody and intense, with an injury, a nasty flagrant foul and one bad blowout. In the end the Spurs took it 4-2 in Phoenix.
The Jazz came on strong but the Spurs were coming off back to back wins to close out Phoenix and blew past Utah for two games before they were able to match up. The Jazz were able to sock one 83-109 loss to the Spurs but the series closed out 4-1, sending San Antonio to their 4th NBA Final since 1999.
That was when people here started to get a little crazy. With our position secured it was finally time to relax and push the team to the Final Victory of the season, the Big Win. The East was ready and when the dust settled it was the Cleveland Cavaliers left standing. In the slow and jabber filled days before the first game the buzz was all about their LeBron James, “King James”.
For years yammering loudmouths have been trying to compare this kid with Michael Jordon. I could understand it back in 03, or even 05, but this was the Big Time and was neither the time nor the place for that kind of insipid and sloppy talk. We suffered all the talk about how the Spurs are “boring” (applied to Tim Duncan and our whole Fundamentals style game), or that we play “dirty” (A term applied derisively to both Bruce Bowen and Robert Horry).
The truth is that, game-for-game, the San Antonio Spurs have become one of the best teams in the NBA. Coach Gregg Popovitch has applied the strict and pure style of basketball he honed at the Air Force Academy, and added to it the sense of Family and camaraderie that makes champions shine. No one can deny that the Spurs’ have the numbers and the record of Champs but what the Spurs do not have is a moral miscreant player under investigation for a felony, which, I believe, must be a requisite to be a “superstar” team, in far off places like L.A. and Detroit, and maybe Cleveland.
I think it exposes a weird sort of prejudicial bias in America against San Antonio. People don’t have that reaction to the Mavs or the Rockets but, as we have proven time and again, the Spurs are simply a better team. We are so good, in fact, that we have never lost a Finals series…The Spurs have won the championship every time they’ve been in it.
The past few days have been a flurry of action and excitement. I needed to find a way to cash in on, what everyone knew, was a losing battle for the Cavs. After the Spurs took back to back wins in San Antonio no one was taking the LeBeron talk seriously anymore. It wasn’t just that he didn’t score well, he didn’t score at all until the 3rd quarter of one game. He missed rebounds, boggled passes, and embarrassed himself on the court in front of the world time and time again. It was bad enough that we had to watch LeBron stink up the court but were were forced to watch LeBron in the station breaks and in Nike commercials, in Sprite commercial, and in promos. When compared with his actual performance during the game it all seemed like some sad, sick joke, and helped expose the kid for the overgrown and overrated man-child product of a media driven sensationalist cash culture that can glorify the “American Idol Winner” of the NBA, and deride a solid player like Duncan, who is so focused and dedicated, that he was jokingly referred to as “Spock” by the Duke student section when he was at Wake Forrest.
When the Spurs won game 3 on Tuesday my mother took out her broom. The entire city was at last confident and content that our Spurs were not only going to beat the Cavaliers at Quicken Loans Arena, but that we were going to humiliate them on world wide television, win it in a sweep, and then bring the trophy home for one huge party. I bet against the Spurs in game 3. It was a fit of manic idiocy that had to be done. I was winning too many of my bets and people stopped wanting to play with me, so I had to take one in the side, and lose on what was one of the lousiest games of basketball I’ve seen in ages. The Spurs played sloppily, failing to convert on turnovers, missed easy layups, and futzed around the court way too much. The Cavs buckled under the pressure of a powerful Spurs defense, and LeBron, while active and out there, was held back by Bowen, Horry, Duncan, and anyone else who could get into position, if needed. The Spurs didn’t win it because they were better, they won it because the Cavs were worse.
Last nights game 4 was beautiful because we won. We swept and we won and, in the end, that is all that matters. The Cavs looked strong for most of the game but after the half the Spurs mustered a weak rally, relied on basics, took advantage of gaping holes in the Defense, and just outplayed Cleveland. The thought that they would lose this game never entered my mind, not even when it looked like it could go into overtime, or when it came down to free throws, fouls, and possessions. Tony Parker continued to outshine LeBron, his post-season experience helping him overcome the faltering Cavaliers defense. (Parker picked up the Finals MVP trophy, and he earned every inch of it.) Manu and Fabricio Oberto worked their magic from the inside and the out, helping the spurs over come a ping-ponging deficit. Francisco Elson and Michael Finley turned up the heat in and out of the paint, and Brent Barry and Jacques Vaughan kept the Cavs guessing and running in circle. As the clocked ticked down, it was painfully clear to the Cleveland bench, fans, and the world that this was not to be their year.
There was no confetti for the Spurs in Cleveland. There were random boos and jeers from the crowd as David Stern presented the Spurs organization with their trophies. However, there was joy there and in the locker room, and there was celebration on the streets of San Antonio. The players celebrated with each other, and with family, friends and loved ones. In bars, homes, and out on the streets of downtown, there was merriment, sound, and passion.
The Spurs arrive back in town around 2 pm. The city is running shuttles to the Airport to greet them for a party. On Sunday there is going to be a parade on the river to show off the trophies, then, in the evening, a celebration at the Alamodome.

I’ve been up all night after the celebrations and revelry. Today I will collect on my bets watch their arrival on TV, and tonight, party with the rest of the city. The Spurs have won 4 titles in 9 years, and I’m sure that people will want to start using the word “dynasty”. Probably the same morons that talk about how boringly good the Spurs are, or how great Parker has become, or how LeBron will be better someday. You won’t really hear people here talking too much about records, or streaks, dynasties. Not yet at least. I, for one, am not taking any chances. Why Doom them now? I and the city will probably just enjoy this Sweet Sweep Victory, and another title, until sometime late next season…Then come see me about the odds on a Repeat.

Call me when the Star Rush in on…

Wally Schirra Dies at age 84

 

What can I say? I wasn't there but, I appreciate the sacrifice and duty he performed for the United States of America as well as NASA. This astronaut did the kind of things movies are made of… he was featured as one of the astronauts in The Right Stuff. Wally was more than a character though even when he was playing practical jokes. Wally is The Right Stuff when it comes to thinking about what citizens of the United States of America are all about. We go all out and prove that we can be the best in the world at something if we just put our heart and minds into whatever it is our hearts pursue.

Being an astronaut has to be more than landlubbing Earthlings could ever imagine. Seeing outer space with your own two eyes and realizing in one moment how big the universe really is just has to almost be overwhelming. My thanks to all of the astronauts from any country for making the sacrifice of reaching for the stars. I know it is an attempt to get humankind off of this mud ball at some point in time. Call me when the "Star Rush" is on. I will clean garbage cans on another planet just to see a different sunrise and sunset than the one on Earth.

 

Till later my spacey friends…

Email from a friend

Subject: GAY FLIGHT ATTENDANT

My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served us food and drinks. As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and told us that Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he'll be landing the big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super. On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed and rather Arabic looking woman hadn't moved a muscle. Perhaps you didn't hear me over those big brute engines but I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground. She calmly turned her head and said, "In my country, I am called a Princess and I take orders from no one", to which (I swear) the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat, "Well, sweet- cheeks, in my country I'm called a Queen, so I outrank you. Tray-up, Bitch."
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The Fiesta post will take a few days to organize...Been a helluva ride. More later.

Ain’t Gonna Rest-a Until After Fiesta

At 9:00 am today, the 116th Fiesta San Antonio officially began. For those who don’t know what I’m talking about Fiesta Week lasts 10 days, draws a crowd of 3.5 million, and has an estimated economic impact of nearly $260 million. (Info from the Fiesta San Antonio website.) It is a city-wide festival in remembrance of the Battles, victories, and sacrifices of the Texas Revolution. It brings together the best of Texas Cultures, and celebrates the unique and magnificent heritage that is San Antonio.
Anyone who has seen any of my Fiesta posts from the past couple of years knows that Fiesta time is my favorite time of year. It‘s like Christmas, New Years, The Fourth of July, Spring Break, and Mardi Gras all rolled into one. It is one serious party and, as such, requires serious preparation.
For the last few days I have been getting ready. This is not one night of debauchery or a few days of decadence. Fiesta is 10 days of progressive partying. It is not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach. Here then, for your edification and amusement, is my Fiesta checklist:
A) Comfortable Shoes: I do a lot of walking during Fiesta because, even if I choose only one event for the day, it’s probably going to be spread out over a very large area. While the dilettante may wear a pair of new cowboy boots or some fashionable shoes, the Fiesta Pro knows that the party neither starts nor stops in one place. Comfort is rule one.
B) Hat: The Fiesta Hat is more than just to keep the Texas sun out of your face, it shows that you are aware of the past that Fiesta commemorates and that you appreciate the legacy that Fiesta has become. Men and ladies wore hats until the early 1960’s. It wasn’t just fashionable; your hat was part of your status. Consider your Fiesta Hat a similar symbol. It’s going to reflect your experience, your affability, and your levity. Mine is a slouchy Mexican Sahuayo palm straw hat, not too fancy, and distinctive enough.
C) Beads: Fiesta beads are very much like Mardi Gras beads. They come in every kind imaginable. Perhaps Fiesta beads use different iconography, (the Chili Pepper, armadillos. the Texas Flag, Beer…) but in essence they serve the same purpose: to show ones likes, turn-ons, interests, and attitudes. This can play an important part in meeting people during Fiesta because it gives you something visual to go on while drunk. The experienced Fiesta vet knows that a few small, shiny, boring, Mardi Gras throw beads in your collection can add a little flair, and they also allow you to give a few away. Also, it is important to remember that one should only wear what one can carry. The beads I wear I have had to hunt down. I wear one with Texas Flags, one with Confederate Jacks, a Jolly Roger one, and a functional plastic shot glass on a string with a removable flashing lime wedge inside it. Flashing body parts and other such outrageous behavior to earn beads is neither necessary nor encouraged. Just ask a drunk for some of their beads, or better yet, start a collection of your own, there are vendors all over the streets, and buy the ones that strike you.
D) Medals: I know there must be an interesting story as to why some people wear medals during Fiesta. I know that, much like other Spring Time Carnivals, we elect a collection of mock royalty and parade them through the streets (and along the river) to the amusement and delight of the drunken masses. I know that this is different that other Spring Time festivals in other places because this one is also the celebration the (no other word for it) Fiesta that was had by all when Texas won our unlikely Independence from the tyrannical rule of the magnificent Mexican Generalissimo Antonio de Padua María Severino López de Santa Anna y Pérez de Lebrón (Santa Ana). These days, the medals take on a much less martial meaning. Companies, corporations, and the City hand them out to employees and customers. Pretty much anyone can make a Fiesta Medal. It’s not so much what’s on the medal as how many you have, and how you wear them. In other words, go ahead and award one to yourself, it’s Fiesta!
E) Collapsible/Disposable ice chest: Above all, the one thing that makes a good Fiesta is drinking. During Fiesta drinking, being moderately drunk, carrying beer. It meana that, if you are so inclined, you can wear a 70 oz. Camelback hydration system on their backs full of Daiquiri, if you so choose. (True story.) It means you can sit on the bed of a Dodge pick up, right downtown, and have a drunken conversation with an on duty San Antonio police officer. It’s always good to carry your own beer because you can offer one to the officer and, chances are, he'll take it for after shift. Most places downtown allow you to take your own ice chest, a very few do not. Most places forbid glass containers, some prefer you do not drink out of a beer container, (can or plastic bottle). In some cases, though, plastic cups are available. (I once recieved a plastic glass from another on dudty SAPD officer, in front of the San Fernando Cathedral, because I had a can of cold beer in a Koozie...Again, true story.) There is no special Fiesta time drink. Beer is what most people drink, carry, share, spill, throw, drop, buy, and sell, during Fiesta, and most people like to take a few cans, at least, of their own cold beer with them. Oh, sure there is such a thing as a Fiesta Margarita but those are usually watered down, frozen concoctions, that are more sugar water than tequila, and are served in novelty glasses and they are roundly regarded as a rookie mistake. No, the Fiesta vet knows that beer is always the way to go. No, the Fiesta vet knows that beer is always the way to go. Some carry large pull behind icechest, usually parade going families who are lugging soft drinks, a picnic lunch, and of course beer. Others carry one-time use styrofoam things they pick up when they bought the case of beer and the bag of ice. I like to tote my beer around in a little collapsible Igloo container. It holds exactly what I need, has room for a snack, and when it’s empty, you just throw out the watery ice, and it'll fit into a backpack or, if you roll it up, into a large pocket or in a strap.
F) Toilet paper/hand sanitizer: As every drinker knows, we don’t so much buy our buzz as rent it. Try as one might to delay it, one must, sooner or later, answer natures call. The City of San Antonio provides an abundance of Port-O-Johns for this very reason. They very word, Port-O-John, though, is enough to strike terror into the heart of the Amateur Fiesta go-er. But take heart. The ladies police their own stalls for a modicum of cleanliness, and the men, well, we make do when we must and allow for bad aim as we don’t ever sit down in one. In every case, no matter the condition of the outhouse or the pressure on the bladder, these two items will always come in handy.
Now, I shall go kick off my Fiesta Week. I’m heading to a downtown Cantina to drink some beer and listen to some music. I will keep notes and take pictures this week, and try to check in when I can. It is important to remember that such things as work, school, or relationships might try to get in the way of a True Fiesta Experience. I try not to let them. One can always find another job, there’s always next semester, and if you’re significant other doesn’t Fiesta with you then they are against Fiesta altogether. Que Viva Fiesta!